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Howdy! It’s 2015 and by Universal Studios predictions we should be flying in cars and look like total assholes with mechanical bio-lifts in their boots. That’s too bad. But still, I am glad to be around for another year and this is the time when I announce another ambitious new thing. (Don’t make fun)

I am starting a new channel on YouTube to cover all the ridiculous items, movies, foods, travel, other bloggers, mistakes on eBay, spooky stuff and anything this weirdo wants to cover. Yes, that weirdo is me. This will be a fun. THIS WILL BE FUN!

Like this:

Here I go again starting a new project to spice things up in the bedroom. Well, if that happens to be where you cruise the internet. Anyway, I have decided to shoot quick little videos all about my favorite horror movies, why I love them and even some little known facts about them. I have loved this genre since it was still sociably acceptable to piss my pants (looking at you, Scooby Doo) so I think now that I have just enough the video experience and no life, I can finally spread the joy to wonderful people like you.

Watch this intro in to the big ol’ project that will include probably 100 movies, shows and commercials that have spooked me to no end. I am pretty stoked to kick this off.

So you see, I want your input just like the other pages. Shoot a video telling the world how you made a cow sound during Sixth Sense. I’ll post it here and we can all laugh WITH you about your misfortune.

Tonight I am starting this series out with Tobe Hooper’s classic, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I am not airing these videos in any particular order so this one actually ranks really high on not only the scary scale but also the most memorable. You will see why in this video blurb but seriously, I made half of the males in my fifth grade class too scared to venture west of Alabama for the rest of their lives.

Come and watch why The Texas Chainsaw Massacre not only scared me from Texas but BBQ in general. (just kidding. I would sell my soul for brisket)

GODDAMN IT VIDEOPRESS!!!!! EVERY TIME! I LOOK LIKE I AM IN MID SNEEZE!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!

I think it’s about time I share with the world where the devil I came up with the name “VeggieMacabre”. After all, it’s only seven years old. What am I waiting for?

In order for me to explain this one we need to get into the way-back machine and travel to the year 1997, in a small camp nestled way up in the North Georgia mountains which trains some of the most elite soldiers at the art of mountain warfare and survival. I found myself there working, training and being screamed at by some of the toughest people the United States military has to offer. Although I was constantly cold, wet, exhausted, hungry, sore, stressed, bloodied, bruised and nervous, I don’t think I have ever been happier because I belonged to something so much bigger and apart of the best. I fit and there wasn’t a day that passed where I wasn’t expected to give over 100%. My hands were callused, my mental acuity was at its zenith and it was not abnormal to be awake for three days straight with little to nothing to eat and asked run ten miles as fast as we could only to return back to the woods for more combat exercises. I loved it. And at 36 in my civilian life, I am certain I would absolutely die living that life again.

One particular evening, I was tasked to stand guard outside a makeshift firebase we constructed and challenge anyone approaching with the what is known as a “challenge and pass”. In order for someone to come into my area without getting shot, I had to issue the secret challenge word in the form of a sentence and they had to respond with the password also in a sentence. If they failed to do so, deadly force was authorized and I was a pretty high-strung kid so I have no doubt I would have shot the shit out of anyone who screwed this up. And it could easily have been done.

You see, back then we still used a lot of Vietnam war era technology including a secret code book that depending on the day of the week, month and year would reveal secret code words, numbers, and other combinations for soldiers to use when communicating over the radio, calling mortar fire or simply finding out what a password to pass through a friendly base. But you had to know how to use it because if you screw up, it could cost you your life. Not only that, if it fell into the wrong hands it could cost your buddies’ lives as well which is far worse. That’s why if you thought you were going to be captured, you had to burn it or eat it. Yes, it’s able to be eaten.

So, before leaving the perimeter to take up my post, I flipped through the small blue paper book in the secret combination of ways to find the challenge and pass as well as the time when we change frequencies on the radio. I still remember most of it however I am not entirely sure if they teach or use this in the Army today. It was classified back then so I have to keep that one on the down-low.

Anyway, the challenge for that day was “Veggie” and the password was “Macabre”. I remember thinking to myself that “macabre” was going to be strange to use in a sentence especially in response to a “veggie” question but really didn’t give it much of a thought after. I packed my Prc 77 radio in my rucksack, locked and loaded my M16, and my SCOUT buddy and I headed out to set up shop in the woods outside the perimeter to meet the scheduled Recon team who was due to come back from patrol with the next few hours.

The craziest thing about standing guard in the middle of the night, especially severely sleep deprived, is the way your mind plays tricks on you. I have so many stories of hallucinating things that were never there through sheer fatigue. One time I thought I saw a pizza roll out of the back of a military troop carrier only to come to and see it was a spare tire that had shaken loose and was wildly rolling down a hill. Another time I thought I saw a horse galloping across a pond. Then there was the time I saw a soldier try to put a quarter in a tree thinking it was a vending machine. Very true. All of these were just my brain’s fight between consciousness and straight up REM. Guard duty was the worst for this. Especially when you haven’t slept much in a week and you’re constantly pushed to the physical limit to now, in the darkest part of the night, sit silently and keep your ears and eyes open for not only the enemy creeping toward you but also friendlies coming in from a night patrol. It’s a fight just to keep your brain from screwing you.

As we laid there, sketching our fire lanes for the platoon leader, my buddy asked me what the challenge and pass was for the night. I could tell I was one of the few who was well versed in the term “macabre” from a childhood loving Freddy and Jason but to meathead jocks, it was a new addition to their vocabulary. I explained its definition and used it in probably a dozen sentences but it was soon decided that I was to challenge the incoming patrol. It was easier that way. No one wants to die in a macabre way over the term macabre.

After a few radio checks and what felt like an eternity, there was a faint movement in the dark. Over the radio crackled the familiar call sign of the recon patrol asking permission to approach, “Romeo 1 this is Stalker 6, break, about 400 mikes november whiskey from your alpha alpha, break, requesting permission to approach, over“.

That means “Hey you this is me (say break to un-squelch the mic on the radio to keep the enemy from breaking the frequency code) we are about 400 meters northwest of your area, don’t shoot.”

I responded “Stalker 6 this is Romeo 1, advance to be recognized and challenged, over.”

They responded, “Roger Romeo 1, we are advancing, out.”

So with my SCOUT buddy behind the M-60, I prepared to meet the patrol thinking of a sentence to use “veggie” and so very curious how they would respond.

Soon I could see the patrol, looking beat up, tired and overall ready for MRE’s and cigarettes. The biggest and dumbest one passed in front of their Ranger file formation and approached to be within whisper distance.

“Halt!”, I whispered. Advance to be recognized.” The kid did and obviously exhausted from a night in chin-deep ponds and steep mountain terrain. I challenged him.

“It’s almost time for dinner, what veggie do you want with your meatloaf.”, I asked. He responded.

“Anything on the macabre would be nice.”

There was snickering from the patrol but not only was I flabbergasted from the response and the utter shock of stupidity but I had no idea what to do! I had spent over a year being drilled to follow everything to the letter I didn’t know what to do when the password was right but severely misused in a sentence. Half of me wanted to let these guys in for well needed rest but the other half was terrified by the possibility of compromising the base. It was a moment that led me to draw my weapon and stating “INCORRECT”.

Confusion.

In an instant the NCOIC took control and blurted the word “macabre” in a sentence which made sense. I looked back at my SCOUT buddy who was hidden in defilade behind me hoping he wouldn’t unleash Hell but thank goodness he absorbed my explanation of the word earlier that night and laid off the trigger.

After we indexed the training mission, the NCOI who jumped to the rescue of his patrol put in that I was to be (and did) awarded the Army Accomendation Medal for…almost shooting up his platoon over poor vocabulary.

It was a bit embarrassing but ever since then the challenge and password Veggie/Macabre has been burned into my brain. In 2007 when I was inspired to create a site of all things stupid, I could think of no better name than VeggieMacabre.

It’s no secret that I have been scarce to say the least but that doesn’t mean I am not with you in spirit. It’s really just work, you know. It’s not like I am doing exciting things with a whole new set of friends and priorities only to peek my head back here because I needed a sweater to wrap around my neck to match my pink popped-collar polo shirt only to see all my old friends still sitting here waiting, rocking Misfits t-shirts and drinking beer leading to an awkward, “oh heeeey…how have you guys been?”. No, it’s seriously just a wicked-crazy quarter that requires less fun and more work. Trust me, I am still the same and I am back to writing nonsense. Just like this paragraph. Total nonsense.

So how do I come back to normalcy? I am finding that writing is much like riding a bike for a long distance and then jumping off to a full running sprint; it’s awkward and you look like a fool until you get your groove back. I need to get my groove back. And what better way to get the ol’ groove back than to review a beer and discuss another Creepshow chapter that is near and dear to the heart. Let’s start with the Creepshow!

I am going to start with the intro to the entire movie for two reasons: one, it’s amazing and two, Tom Atkins makes it amazing. Just look at this perfect 1960’s style house that is modernized to the early 1980’s! This was my childhood, folks. All in one shot and I love it so.

We can hear from the outside of the house that someone is in deep shit for having taboo literature and buddy, he is getting a lashing from the legend himself, Tom Atkins. Tom is giving the ol’ what-for over finding a copy of the comic, Creepshow, in his kid’s room and to defend himself, the kid points out it’s not as bad as some of the magazines Tom has in his sock drawer.

And that’s when his son learns about “five-figured justice”. You don’t TALK ABOUT TOM ATKINS’ SOCK DRAWER! The wife tries to calm Tom down but the foot came down and now the comic is headed for the garbage. Even after pleads from his son, Tom just really hates this comic book.

And there it lays in a Oscar’s house. But soon Tom gets an uneasy feeling as he heads back to the house because in the distance, you can faintly hear a creepy laugh.

Now that the law has been laid down, it’s Miller time. His wife is noticeably upset (based on her furious knitting) but what’s done is done and Tom kicks back a brew stating not once but twice, “That’s why God made fathers, babe.”.

Meanwhile, upstairs….

Let me first say that this kid is pretty cool. Noted he came from a Tom Atkins’ character’s loins but still, his room decor and choice of comics makes him a friend of Veggiemacabre. Anyway, he is also awesome because he is not scared at all of this thing looking in his window…

Had it been an all you can eat Indian buffet night and I saw that staring in my window, all I can say is the sheets would have been chilling in Oscar’s house with the comic. But not this stud! Nope, he smiles away pounding his fist into his hand. Vengeance is close at hand.

We come to the end of the movie but before the credits roll we get to see what Billy (Tom’s son) is going to do to his oppressive father. But even before that we get a nice treat by a little known cameo from..

Tom Savini and Marty Schiff who were also in cameos in Dawn of the Dead! Instead of a motorcycle gang, this time they are garbage man who thumb through the discarded comic looking specifically at the dumb stuff advertised between the stories. One in particular caught my eye.

I know this was from an earlier segment but I love this ad. “By selling Bolt, the family newspaper nobody knows about and win great prizes like:

A bow and arrow

Pistols and rifles

Surveillance equipment

Cannon and Tanks

Nuclear warheads

Seems like a bargain! Especially if I am selling a newspaper nobody knows about!

Anyway, they flip to the voodoo doll ad that had already been cut-out. Already been cut-out? Uh oooooh!

Looks like Tom was in some considerable pain last night and didn’t get much sleep. That is probably because little Billy sent away for the Voodoo doll which surprisingly was an awesome buy!

I really don’t know the moral of the story here. Don’t hit your kid? Don’t mouth off to Tom Atkins? Be careful what you hide in the sock drawer? Well, I think what we have here is that if Iran really wants a nuclear warhead, they are looking in the wrong magazines.

Well, before August gets here I suppose I should post something or suffer the fate of July 2010 being the first month I missed sharing my thoughts, random obscure trivia and death pools like how long will Brian Dennehy be circling the drain for. Yeah, this blog has never been one to accumulate mass amounts of good karma points but I digress. Tonight I finally have time to catch everyone up. All three of you. There is no work that is pressing at the office, my research has finally gotten to a manageable cluster and I decided to rest and not run another race tomorrow. I am currently staring at six more marathons and an ultra relay before October’s end. So with this free time, where to begin?

Living in Moscow Idaho is like living in the DOS prompt of America. There is really nothing here and if you leave this town you will drive through miles of rolling hills, blue sky and occasional farms only to arrive in another town that looks just like the one you came from. It’s a lot like living in a flash program. It will never change and does not end. Kind of like this.

I think my neuro research has effected my brain. Irony! I have spent so much time in the lab, hospital and library, I think I am socially inept. Yesterday I was at the local Co Op (hippy grocery) and the check out girl asked me what color my eyes were. I told her I wasn’t sure because I can’t see them. In my mind I was trying to be funny playing off the fact that I see with them and was unable to…you get it. But I came across like a dick-nerd. The worst kind! Being a nerd is bad enough but when a dick lable is added, that makes my fists itch. But I regained and thanked her for her compliments and the promptly spilled my change on the floor. I’m going to buy my fruit somewhere else for a while.

I witnessed my cat eat a fly today. It wasn’t good enough that she licks her butt but now eats flies. Just thought you needed to know.

This blog turns three years old in a couple of days. I don’t trust myself to post on the exact day so I’ll just say it now. Weee! A lot has happened in the past three years and I wouldn’t do anything different. Well, probably quit tequila sooner. I don’t miss making this face anymore.

I missed motherfucking David Bowie Day! Dag rabbit! Okay, since it was my brain child to begin with I think I reserve the right to change the date. It will now be David Bowie Day on August 14th. Mark it on your calendar. Do what you have to do and when you do, you’ll know what to do. Remember that.

So here is to another three years of nonsense! Thanks for tagging along and all the great people I have met on the way. Seriously, it’s amazing how many friends I have just because I decided one day to start this WordPress page. I love you all. So, I guess it’s back to the path. See ya on the way!

It has been so long and I have missed you all so much. Really. Honestly. The thing is I just don’t know how to jump back in this whole blogging thing again so I guess I am just going to do it. There has been a few life directions I have changed and last Sunday I turned 30 so this is as good of a time as any to start up the ol’ VeggieMacabeness that will someday be the word of all humanity. Just wait. “Be Excellent To Each Other”.

I was asked to speak at the 2010 Young Executives Conference for NEC and Konica Minolta next week about what lessons I have learned and how I attribute them to my success. There are a few things wrong with that last statement. One, I am neither young or an executive. I am a project manager for a medium size office that will pay for my Neuro PhD. Two, everything I learned in life has been from the 1987-91 TGIF line up on ABC so the joke is on them, I guess. Three, I am far from a success. Do successful people break off the trunk from the broccoli in the grocery store to make it lighter or hold onto a box of Nabisco Spookie Fruits from the eighties? Not really.

I know I am getting older and it really hit me when my parents sent me their gift. It was a fruit basket. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because many people my age don’t get anything, but a fruit basket? I just sent a fruit basket to a new customer as a token of appreciation. This does not compute. Maybe I am just being a whiny weenie Will? Nononono. Wtf? A fruit basket?

I have finally managed to ignore all vices for the past couple of months and hit the gym to get back in the shape I was in at 28. My goal is to be in better shape, look hotter and be tip-top happidy hap-hap happy come this summer. I have a goal to make this the one true crazy summer of fun and mayhem. And then grow up. You know, like buy land, get married and have kids? I at least make the effort.

Oh shit, it happened. I hate teenagers. Everything about them makes me want to hurt puppies and babies. I have no idea where that came from but as I am writing this I just saw two walk by in their emo-skinny jean-black and purple-wierdo hat-sad walk and I want to say, “MRAAAROOORAPDAP!” because there are no words for my pissiness. “I weep for the future“.

I know that this post had a tinge of bitchiness to it but I promise great stuff on the way including a Megadeth backstage post on the first of March. Man, I hope Dave isn’t too big of a prick. And I hope I don’t get nervous and get shaky leg syndrome like the time I met Alice Cooper. That was just embarrassing.

It’s true, VeggieMacabre is a year old! Funny how time goes by so fast, you know? I can remeber when I was inspired to move to WordPress thanks to The Pilver, namely Kristiane. Since then you have been witness to some pretty odd posts but you keep coming back and for that, I thank you. Actually as much as I love writing on here I really love reading the posts from those on my blogroll. I think I have the smartest people on my blogroll and even though I haven’t met anyone in the flesh I feel like I have made a lot of great friends.

So here is to the first year and to many more! And for a celebration I will make firework sound effects and let Nathaniel lead the party. I like to dance too, Nat.